Despite the Allobroges being successful in turning back one attempt to invade their territory, the chances that they would hold out indefinitely were not such that Caesar was willing to risk it, so we left the camp we occupied for several weeks to begin marching south. During this period of time we were in camp, Vercingetorix had decided that his best base of operations was the town of Alesia, like Gergovia a fortified town sitting on the top of a plateau. Once we started to move, and once Vercingetorix determined our intent, he ordered his massive army to leave Alesia and march in a direction that would meet us before we were able to cross the Rhodanus into the Province. About four days into the march, scouts alerted us to the presence of the enemy nearby, just a few miles from our own camp. I do not know why, but the orders were given to proceed with the next day’s march as planned, and in the morning we left the ruin of the night’s camp behind, continuing our march south. Our orders were that each baggage train followed their Legion, which I must say was a grave error on our part. Vercingetorix’s attack consisted of cavalry only, and in this I believe he made his first huge mistake. His cavalry host was of sufficient size that he disposed of it in three columns, sending one to harass the vanguard Legion and advance party at the head of the column, with the other two attacking the main body from either side along the column. Because we were still in Lingones territory, who remained solidly in our camp, Caesar did not send out his usual far-ranging patrols and we paid for it. All along the column, the sounds of the cornu and the cries of the Centurions rang out, each section of the massive body of men spotting the attack of the Gallic cavalry at roughly the same time.
“Form square!”
The command echoed down the line, but we needed no extra instruction on where we were to form square, each Cohort from each Legion running quickly to their preassigned spots around their baggage train, forming a square around our most precious possessions. Despite the fact it takes a while for a single command to a column consisting of ten Legions to be passed along, we were experienced enough to know what needed to be done without waiting for orders, making the move more or less simultaneously all up and down the long column once the initial command was given. Standing in my spot, just behind the last rank in the Century, I used my height to survey the ground, trying to see through the dust that swirled around the hooves of the Gallic cavalrymen. Never before had I seen so many horsemen in one place, the dust they churned up soon obliterating my view of anything other than the few feet in front of the first rank. Suddenly out of the haze a number horsemen came bursting into view, riding directly towards our front line. Men immediately behind the front row grabbed onto the man in front to brace them for the impact, as the men in front, instead of throwing their javelin like they normally would, thrust them out as lances to spear the onrushing horses. The beasts, seeing what was in front of them, tried desperately to skid to a halt, yet between their own momentum and the savage whipping they were being given by their riders, the poor things had no chance. Screams of animals in agony rent the air as the impact of the combined weight of men and horses slammed into the Century, and I could feel the shudder through the very ground on which I stood. For a moment the men in front leaned backward, struggling under the weight pressed against them while the Gauls, still astride their mounts struggling to free themselves from the points imbedded in their flesh, whipped their long swords down onto the heads of the front men. The men in the second rank were using their javelin to stab upwards at the Gauls and it looked for the slightest time as if the force of the Gallic horsemen was going to overwhelm us. However, we all knew that any break in our formation meant death, not just to the men around the hole but to all of us, since the Gauls would whip their horses into the gap to exploit it. We had seen it happen enough to know what fate awaited us, so despite the intense pressure, we held. Finally our javelins hit their marks, stabbing the Gallic riders. In a matter of a few heartbeats from when they first appeared, there were several dead men at our feet, along with a horse that only managed to walk a few unsteady paces before collapsing. The other animals, less seriously wounded, went galloping away with blood streaming down their hides, driven by the mindless instinct to flee from what had hurt them. The remaining horsemen sheared away to disappear into the haze of dust. I always felt badly for the horses in war; they had no say in the matter and they suffered some of the most horrible deaths. It was something I never spoke of, because I would have been teased unmercifully, but it did bother me nonetheless.
All around us, similar small skirmishes were taking place, before our own cavalry came thundering past us to confront the Gauls. In the same manner as our enemy, Caesar split our horsemen into three columns, each one assigned to one of the enemy formations. Once the Gauls tried to break through our lines a couple of times, only to be bloodily repulsed each time, we became spectators to the action. With the battle wearing on, our Germans began carrying the day, much to our delight, and we heartily cheered them whenever they would go hurtling past as we caught just a glimpse of them.
“This is like watching the chariot races in Rome,” remarked Scribonius, and I looked at him in some surprise. As close as we were, Scribonius talked very little about his past, where he had come from or where he had lived for that matter. And normally, this was not a thing that we talked about in the army; if a man did not want to discuss his past, we assumed it was for good reason and did not pry, but I was so surprised, I blurted out, “You’ve been to Rome?”
Giving me a sidelong glance, he hesitated, then nodded. Keeping his eyes on the action, he said, “I lived there.”
I will confess that I was astounded. Here was one of my two or three closest friends, boon companion since being tiros together, and this was the first I heard that he had lived in Rome! Suddenly, the battle was completely forgotten as I asked eagerly, “Pluto’s thorny cock! What’s it like? Is it as wonderful as they say?”
I could see him make a face, his reluctance clear to see, but then he glanced at my own face and laughed. “You’re not going to let this be until I tell you, are you?”
I shook my head emphatically, and he sighed. “All right, I’ll tell you all about Rome. But not now. Later.”
“When later?” I demanded.
Rolling his eyes he replied, “Tonight, by Dis. Is that good enough for you?”
Nodding, we turned our attention back to the fight and watched as our cavalry carried the day from the Gauls.
Our German horse swept the Gallic cavalry from the field with heavy losses, yet one of the great mysteries of the day, and the mistake that I referred to earlier was why Vercingetorix did not order his infantry into the battle. They were formed up, outside of their camp with a view of our column as it approached, yet never left that spot. Once it was clear how the day was going, they broke down their camp and marched hurriedly away. Their army was much too large for our cavalry to try to engage while we shook ourselves out into battle formation, so we watched the dust cloud that signaled their marching away to Alesia. Vercingetorix, with the remnants of his cavalry, followed behind the rest of their army, leaving almost 3,000 horsemen dead on the field. All that Vercingetorix worked so hard to achieve in the last six months was lost in a day when he kept his infantry back from the battle, because the truth on Jupiter’s stone is that we were surprised, just like we were by the Nervii when making camp that day. Now, however, Vercingetorix was running, and the place he was running to would be his last stand at Alesia, so it was there that we now marched. That night around the fire, Scribonius had a rapt audience as he described Rome, but even with his attempts to make it sound squalid, dirty and dangerous, by the time he was through telling us of the sights to be seen, all of us were afire to see the city for which we marched to glory.